


I've Never Really Known

by ThatHCWriter



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Lonnie Byers, Cemetery, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, It's Lonnie, Jim "Chief" Hopper Lives, Lonnie Byers Being an Asshole, Married Couple, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Scars, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatHCWriter/pseuds/ThatHCWriter
Summary: The last time the Byers brothers had a "dad," he made Will's life a living hell and gave Jonathan too many scars to remember.Eleven never had a mom, not really. Even when she did, she was never anything beyond a shell of a woman.Or Joyce and Hopper tie the knot, but they're not the only ones who benefit.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jim "Chief" Hopper & Sara Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Joyce Byers & Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers & Will Byers, Joyce Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Will Byers & Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 32
Kudos: 88





	1. Jonathan

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to say this before: This story has Lonnie at his worst in flashbacks. I don't get overly graphic with anything physical, but this man is a monster. I promise, there's comfort, but memories of Lonnie are in the way. 
> 
> I just wanted to give a fair warning. However I hope you enjoy!

Jonathan Byers didn't need a dad. 

He told himself that for the first time when he was ten, still trembling in his room from the venomous words of his father in that dark, damp forest that afternoon. "No son of mine sissies out like that. It's a fucking rabbit Jon, not a person, be a man about it." Lonnie's voice was gruff and careless as he walked back toward the car, huffing in disappointment. Jonathan's hands were shaking fiercely, his eyes downcast as he followed his father mechanically. "Here I was thinking I'd have at least one son. All I've got is your little fairy brother and your sissy ass. Blows my fuckin mind, my luck. Wonder what the fuck I did wrong." Lonnie spat the words like a gun firing bullets.

Jonathan bit his tongue hard. He hated when Lonnie talked like that. _What he did wrong? Where did Jonathan start? Maybe it was the yelling, maybe it was the constant name calling. If it wasn't that, it was certainly the hitting, the screaming, the threatening of Will, or his mom. Jonathan knew exactly what he'd done wrong, most people with a brain could see it._

He rode home that day in silence, and didn't let any of his frustration show until he got home and in his room. It was late, late enough that he wouldn't wake Will or worry mom. Hell, she was too busy defending herself from the fury of that horrible man. No, that parasite that had wormed its way into their home where it refused to leave. He cried in silence that night, curled into his pillow and let himself shake, let the fear and the anger and the pain come out in waves in the peace of his room. 

A part of him wished he wasn't alone. He wished his mother was there, having fended off his father for just long enough to hold him close, reassure him and tell him that he wasn't a mistake, he wasn't weak, he was loved. He was worthy of being called someone's son. 

But the smarter part of him knew better. That part of him knew all too well that such an action would damn both himself and his mom, and who knows, it might wake up Will and throw him into the shit show. His momentary comfort wasn't worth his safety, and it _really_ wasn't worth Will's. 

So he lied there, staring at his old Clash poster with tears burning at his eyes and told himself that he didn't need a dad. His dad didn't do anything for him, his dad didn't make him feel like anything but a waste, a nuisance, a disgrace of a son. 

So why did he need one? If his dad left, that would be fine, right? He'd still have his mom, and Will. They'd still have him, too. To him, that seemed like enough. 

When his mother sat him down a almost a full year after the incident at the mall, seeming almost too happy for having nearly lost both her children and the man who would become her boyfriend (that was still weird to think about for Jonathan, even though he did really like having the Chief around,) he knew something was up. His mind stopped functioning correctly when his mother revealed the ring. 

Will seemed happy, and that was good. He didn't even try to act surprised about the news, but he was much more eager to congratulate them, running up to hug his mother and smiling. 

Jonathan however, was frozen in his seat. He was excited, hell he was elated to see his mom that happy, happier than she'd been since he was very young, but there was something in his gut that held him up. His mom and Hopper were happy, very happy even, and he wanted nothing more but that for his mom, but they weren't married. 

Maybe, Jonathan thought in part to his own disbelief, he wanted it to stay that way. 

All the married people he knew were miserable, feeling trapped at best and victimized at worst. Nancy's parents didn't seem happy, they cared about their kids, yes, but they didn't seem to care about each other. And they were the best case scenario he'd seen. The married people he'd seen fought and separated and did nothing but spread pain. 

He knew that wasn't what it was supposed to be like. He knew it was supposed to represent commitment and love and happiness, all things that he knew Hopper could do, all things he wanted for his family. 

But that would mean that he would, legally speaking, have a dad again. 

And Jonathan Byers didn't need a dad. 

He recovered from his frozen stupor quickly, congratulating and hugging and smiling through his doubts. His family was happy, and he'd hate to be the person who dragged it all down. 

Hopper started living with them the next day, and it was a very strange experience at first. It was nice to have someone positive around the house, someone who would play music and joke and make mom laugh much more than she ever used to, especially in those awful days when he was sixteen and his brother was trapped in another world. Bills also stopped being a problem, and Jonathan taking a day off didn't mean a missed payment anymore. In that respect, Jonathan felt like he could breathe easier.

But having a man, even a man like Hop in the house made Jonathan tense. He tried to relax, he truly, genuinely did. He tried to tell himself that Hopper was a friend, someone who he could let his guard down around. Hopper was good, even though he was in this house. Even though he was loud sometimes. It was never dangerous. _He_ was never dangerous. 

But to Jonathan, it was habit. And damn that was hard to unlearn. 

It was about a week before the wedding when Jonathan 'slipped up' for the first time. It had been raining that day, hard enough to turn the dirt roads leading to Jim Hopper's cabin into a sludgy mess of barely crossable mud. They were finishing moving most things out of there that day, and Jonathan, all too eager to prove to his mom that him 'acting weird' had nothing to do with her fiancé, volunteered to help. Just his luck, Jonathan's front tire slipped into a divot, deep enough that Jonathan had to very begrudgingly get out of his car and push the damn thing the last few feet. 

When he finally went in the door, Hop looked at him like he was an alien. He was caked in drying mud, his white shirt now varying shades of brown. His hair was also soaked, pressed down against his face. Hopper chuckled to himself, before turning to the couch and grabbing a ball of cloth. 

"Car stuck there kid?" Jonathan could do nothing but sigh exhaustedly. The chief tossed him the grey ball, a t shirt he realized. Jonathan caught it awkwardly, regarding it strangely for a moment. "Well, you gonna put it on? You look freezing." Jonathan smiled, turning away and thoughtlessly going to put on the shirt while Hopper began to clean.

In that moment, he forgot. 

He let his guard down just enough, and he forgot.

He pulled the shirt up over his shoulders and exposed his back. His back which he always tried to keep a secret, even from people like Nancy. 

His back, which was criss crossed by angry scars that ran the gambit from white to pink, fading all too slowly.

By the time he realized that it was in full view, it was already too late to backtrack. 

"Those look like they hurt, kid." Jonathan winced, throwing the new t shirt on hurriedly. 

"They um... They used to," Jonathan said quietly, almost like a confession. He hoped silently like that would be the end of it. Maybe, just maybe he would drop it, move on. To his disappointment, but not his surprise, he did not get his wish. 

"Old then, huh," by the dry, almost pained tone of Hopper's voice, Jonathan knew he'd made the connection. Jonathan reluctantly turned as Hop approached him, a concerned stare backlit by quiet anger on his face. "Did Lonnie do that?" His voice was quiet but stern. Jonathan took a deep, steadying breath, his father's words burning in his mind. 

_"So you're just going to go around and tell everyone that you're a dumbass and a sissy? All you're doing is telling the world that you can't take a hit worth a shit and you're too dumb to know when to give up."_

"Jonathan," Hopper's voice cut through the noise enough for Jonathan to be able to process his situation. He hung his head and bit his lip. 

"Better me than mom or Will," he said softly, like he didn't want to speak the words. As much as he hated to think about it, Hopper wasn't exactly surprised. Horrified, gutted, incensed , sure, but not surprised. Lonnie Byers had always been vile, and violence had never been absent from his life, but seeing the proof, especially on the back of a kid who just wanted to protect who he loves made him almost vibrate with anger. 

The city cop in him wanted to drive to Indianapolis and beat Lonnie until he couldn't be identified, watch him hurt as badly as he hurt his family, then make it look like an accident. Damn him to hell, the only place he ever deserved to be. 

But that wasn't who Hopper was anymore. He was a man who spent weeks upon weeks in a hospital, doing nothing but smiling and laughing and trying to distract his little girl from the suffocating presence of death around them. He was a man who opened his home to an orphan with superpowers just because she needed a place to stay. He was a man who had gone to hell and back willingly for the kids around him because they needed him to. 

A man who noticed how badly the kid, his kid, was trembling in front of him. 

Hop carefully navigated a hand to the back of Jonathan's neck, stroking his thumb against the boy's head as he did. Despite himself, despite it all, Jonathan's head drooped on to the chief's shoulder, turning slightly into his neck. He fought the urge to fully wrap his arms around the boy for fear of irritating the scars, instead moving his spare hand to cradle the back of Jonathan's head. Hop noticed his breathing growing more erratic, a soft sob rising from him. 

"Hey, it's alright kid, you're okay," Hopper was rambling now, pulling from every experience he had to calm the teenager. Jonathan pulled his head up and out of Hopper's neck, turning to face him with red rimmed eyes. 

"Thank you." 

"What?" In retrospect, Hop felt a little bad for his response, but in the moment it was the best he could do. Jonathan's face reddened as his eyes hit the floor. 

"For not being too good to be true," Hopper pulled back slightly, as if he was stricken. Jonathan sighed and steadied himself, gesturing wildly as he tried to explain, "With dad it was always because he wanted something, or because he was drunk, he was never nice just to be nice. And then with Bob, I... Shit, why am I talking about this.." 

"No no no, it's okay," Hop was quick to reassure, "I'm listening kid," he extended a hand, grabbing Jonathan's arm with the gentle steadiness that Hopper always emanated, "I'm here, always will be." Even that phrase struck something inside of Jonathan. 

"That's new," Jonathan said offhandedly and under his breath, "It's just... I'm sorry if I seem stand offish... This is nice, really nice but... It takes some getting used to." Hopper hummed, the understanding between the two much greater than words. 

"Anything I can do? Any way I can help?" Jonathan sighed, leaning into Hopper's side slightly. 

"Just don't change," Jonathan said softly, "I don't want things to change again." Hopper smirked, resting his chin on the boy's head. 

"Not planning on it kid." 

They spent the rest of the day packing up, ducking in and out under the cover of umbrellas until the rain finally broke. They laughed along the way, Hopper telling plenty of stories about each of the items they packed and Jonathan listening without protest, simply enjoying the company. 

As he drove home, trunk full of boxes, Jonathan made a new decision. 

It was still true, Jonathan Byers didn't need a dad. 

He needed something different. Something that wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't make him feel like he was worthless, wouldn't change on a dime. 

Something like Jim Hopper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El is up next! I appreciate comments SO much, and would love to hear your feedback! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and stay gold my friends!


	2. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El wasn't used to feeling cared about by anyone who wasn't Hopper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the update! Thank you so much for the feedback on last chapter! Tags have updated. 
> 
> A warning for this chapter: Hawkins Lab sucks. A lot, and El has some unpleasant memories from there.  
> This again has a lot of fluff, but I wanted to put this here.
> 
> Jopper fluff ahead aswell. You earned it.

Eleven wasn't feeling well.

And Hop wasn't there.

From the moment she woke up, her head felt like a charged explosive, throbbing so sharply that she had trouble standing, but her instincts told her to press on. When she stood, she nearly swayed right back into her bed, the pressure behind her eyes making her legs malfunction. She made her way to the kitchen in a stupor, trying not to hold her head and fold over, giving into the horrible pain. 

Her head was swimming, the light was too bright and the soft murmur of a voice from across the room sounded like gunfire. Everything was hazy and painful and bad, and Hop wasn't there. 

_El remembered the last time she felt this way, one of the last weeks she'd spent with Papa. She felt just as awful as she did before, pain racking through her body as she sat up in her cot. The pain was so all consuming, and the feeling in her head was so terrible that she could not help herself. Tears began pouring down her face as she curled into herself, her hands covering her head and her fingers tensing sharply._

_Before she could say anything, even make a noise, the door to her room creaked open and Papa walked in, his eyes thin and full of mocking softness. He sat on the end of her bed, his hands crossed neatly and harshly._

_"What's going on here?" His voice was soft but leading, like a coiled snake._

_"Hurts, Papa," she said gingerly, burying her eyes in her hands in an attempt to hide from the blaring white light. He rested a hand on her back, going slightly rigid when she involuntarily leaned in._

_"You have a busy day today, no time for things like this," The doctor said coolly, rubbing her back slightly. She started to heave a little more, shaking her head violently and pushing deeper into his chest. He looked up at the men in white coats standing at the door, "Go ahead and get some pain relievers, we'll delay the start of testing twenty minutes," he stood and headed for the door, turning to Eleven curtly, "You're welcome."_

Ever since, Eleven had never felt quite that bad that unexpectedly. She'd felt bad after finding Will in the pool, the incident at school and closing the gate, but that was because she pushed herself too hard. That made sense to Eleven, she did something that caused her to hurt.

When she lived in the cabin, she never felt this bad. 

Even if she did feel a little under the weather one day, one little talk with Hop would make all of it fade to the background. He just had a way of making her feel better when she was ill, his presence alone making her feel sheltered and safe in a way that she craved on those long cold nights in the lab. Some Eggos, a movie and a warm, secure arm around her shoulder worked better than any of the lab's medicines. 

But Hop wasn't here. 

He had the late shift, something about a football game that would stir up trouble among the kids. He'd warned her that he wouldn't be back until after breakfast, even later if he made any arrests, but he made sure to remind her that this wasn't like the cabin.

"If you need anything, anything at all, remember Joyce is here, okay? She'll take care of you," He said with an honest and gruff tone, his hand resting firmly on her shoulder. 

"Okay," she said, not thinking much of it, "I will." Hop smiled, ruffling her hair affectionately and pressing a kiss to her hair before heading out the door.

That was hours ago, and as the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds, Eleven knew there was no chance Hop was back. She resisted the urge to pick up her long dormant walkie, hoping that by some miracle, he'd come back. He'd fix it, comfort her and make the pain and the sick go away. She barely even registered that she was sitting down, her hands coming to rest on her head and her face contorting into an expression of thinly veiled pain. She didn't mean to jump when a hand rested itself gently on her shoulder.

"Woah, hey El, you don't look too good," the hand started to move up and down her arm gently as the voice spoke again, "Let me get mom, okay?" El nodded weakly, letting her head hit the table. 

She barely heard Joyce scurry in from behind, whispering frantically and sitting next to her. She turned to face the woman, still wincing hard from the light. "El, sweetie are you feeling okay?" She asked gently, a hand resting on the back of her head steadily. Eleven whimpered involuntarily, gripping her head a little tighter. Joyce knelt in front of her, cupping the sides of her face gently, "Headache, huh?" Eleven nodded. 

"Hurts," she pushed her head into Joyce's shoulder without thinking, the need to be comforted winning out over logic. Joyce pulled her into a proper hug immediately, not stiffening for even a moment. 

"Oh sweetheart, come here. Let's get to the couch, okay? I've got you," Joyce helped her to her feet, walking her to the couch carefully. El's head never left her shoulder as she walked, making soft, pained noises all the while. El sunk into the couch quickly, curling in on herself. She distantly recognized the familiar feeling of a blanket being tucked into her chin and draped over her form. She burrowed into the warmth, eyes closing contently. Joyce smiled to herself, brushing a hand gently through Eleven’s hair before trying to stand up.

Eleven’s hand jetted out to her arm, gripping much harder than Joyce expected. 

“No. Don’t leave,” El said sharply, her eyes red rimmed. Joyce stilled, turning back toward the girl. 

“I’m not going far, just putting some soup on for you.” 

“No,” El said again, her tone much more fragile. Something about the desperation in the girl’s voice cut Joyce to the core. 

“Alright, alright. I’m not going anywhere.” Eleven curled into Joyce’s side the minute she sat down, her shivering slowly beginning to stop. Quietly, Joyce signaled Jonathan to head to the kitchen, and adjusted El to sit more comfortably. El's eyes were slowly flickering shut, but her fingers were still laced tightly into Joyce's shirt. That simple gesture nearly brought tears to Joyce's eyes.

She knew exactly what the girl's tense posture meant. She'd seen it for months after she'd ventured through that gate and rescued her son. It was desperate, it was scared, it was almost disbelieving. It was as if she wasn't sure she was really there, that she thought she might be somewhere much worse, and she was clinging on to the closest piece of reality she had. 

So Joyce didn't move. She didn't move when Jonathan set the bowl of soup in front of her and saw himself out, she didn't move when the door opened, she didn't move when she felt someone sit next to her. 

"Ah shit, this all happen last night?" Hopper said drowsily, slinging one arm around Joyce and the other around Eleven's back. 

"Yeah," Joyce said softly, brushing her fingers through the now sleeping Eleven's hair, "seemed like she was hurting pretty bad." 

"Oh kid," Hopper ducked down to press a kiss to the top of El's head, whispering something to her that even Joyce couldn't hear. "I feel bad, damned kids kept me out for too long." Joyce smirked. 

"You really think this bothers me, Hop?" He chuckled warmly, leaning in to kiss Joyce softly but sweetly. 

"You never cease to amaze me, you know that?" Joyce leaned her head into Hopper's shoulder, curling tighter around Eleven. "I love you."

Joyce smiled up at him, "love you too." 

Neither of them moved for a few solid hours Joyce nearly drifting off as Hopper rubbed slow circles into Eleven's back. 

When she woke up a few hours later, her head finally stopping its endless throbbing, she felt not one, but two strong pairs of arms around her. She knew by their breathing that they were fast asleep, their arms and legs crossed in such a strange knot that Eleven could barely find an escape. 

But in all honesty, she didn't mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to keep who's up next a surprise, have to keep you on your toes somehow! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Comments and Kudos mean the world! Stay gold my friends.


	3. Sara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce considers Sara to be family, regardless of whether or not she's with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You were expecting Will, weren't you? Surprise!
> 
> Regardless, have some tissues with you. Seriously. I hope you enjoy, though!

Morning had barely broken on that summer day, but Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers were already wide awake. They didn't speak. To Hop, there was no need, but Joyce? Joyce was panicking on the inside. She had no idea what to say in that moment, no idea how to process what they were about to do, no idea what the right words were.

A part of her felt so stupid it hurt. She hated the way people froze up around her just a few years ago, when they found that dummy in the quarry. If there was anyone who should be able to understand what to say today, what to do to make him feel a little bit more comfortable, it should be her. And yet, the words don't come. Thankfully, he doesn't seem agitated, or even to notice. He just moves with quiet and measured certainty, reminding Joyce with all the subtlety of a brick to the face that this horribly morbid ritual was anything but new. 

"Joyce," he whispered harshly, standing in front of the door clutching a bouquet in one hand and a stuffed tiger under his opposite arm, "we should go." He tilted his head toward the door with a smile that she didn't understand how he was keeping up. She nodded fiercely, piling into the car with her eyes straying on occasion to Hop's face. He never let anything on, keeping a casual look in his eyes and not letting any form of tension creep into his posture. He was almost at ease, and to say it unnerved Joyce would be a gross understatement.

She spent the entirety of the admittedly short car ride slumped against the window staring at him, analyzing him like he was a puzzle. Hopper's eyes stayed mostly on the road, only darting to Joyce when they hit a stop sign. He smirked at her confusedly. 

"Look good today, do I?" Joyce blushed, feigning offense. He chuckled softly, his eyes returning to the road as they finally pulled through the iron gates of the only cemetery in Hawkins. The car rambled down the dirt pathways steadily, allowing no time for the awful feeling in Joyce's stomach to solidify. It was only made worse by the knowledge that one of the tombstones just a few yards away from her still said "here lies William Byers" even if there wasn't anything in the ground. 

They stopped the car in front of a smaller headstone, one that was light and well kept. There were ornate carvings of flowers lining the outside of the stone, encircling the lines of frank but elegant script: 

Here Lies Sara Diane Hopper  
1971-1978  
Beloved Daughter  
Taken Far Too Soon 

Hopper got out of the car with relative ease, approaching the stone gracefully and kneeling in front of it, his hand drifting to the side of it gently. 

"Hey sweetheart.." He said almost under his breath, smiling gently at the headstone, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get out here, I just..." He turned and looked at Joyce, a mournful yet hopeful look on his face, "I've got a lot of new things going on. Good things, but new things." He pulled the bouquet and tiger out from under his arm, setting it gently on the ground in front of the stone. "I know you might be getting a little old for this but... Humor your old man, will you?" He huffed out a dry laugh that cut Joyce to the core. Hopper's eyes panned up and down the stone, smiling gently. "I was gonna clean this off today, but it's looking pretty good. Did you have a visitor?" Hopper's question was mostly rhetorical, and in all honesty, he didn't expect an answer to the question.

He really didn't expect the answer to be coming from directly behind him.

"I hope I didn't overstep, Hop. I mean, I was nearby, and you had been talking about needing to go take care of the headstone, so I figured I'd..." Joyce trailed off, fidgeting with her sleeves. Before she could realize it, Hopper had stood up, distant tears in his disbelieving eyes.

"You cleaned it, huh? Pretty well too," Hopper's voice was cracking around the edges, a strange, but welcome feeling settling in his chest. Joyce nodded sharply, releasing a breath. 

"Yeah, thanks, I... I had the time, so..." Her words were muffled by Hopper's chest crashing into her, Hopper's arms wrapping around her contentedly. It wasn't long before she relaxed and reciprocated the hug, leaning into the man's chest with more of her weight than she intended. They stood there for a moment in perfect silence, simply drinking in the calm, until the chief spoke.

"Do you know how long it's been since Sara's mom did something like that?" Joyce pulled away slightly, jaw agape. 

"What?" 

"I'm serious. Diane... She doesn't live around here anymore, but even when she does come she never talks about visiting Sara. Honestly, I doubt she ever came, no way in hell she'd cleaned it." Hopper's eyes were fixed on the stone behind him, regret making its way into his gaze for the first time that day. Joyce was, once again, at a complete loss, her head swimming with ways to respond. 

"Hop, I don't know what to say," she said softly, her weight still pressed firmly into Hopper's side. He smiled, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. 

"You went out here without me, hell without even prompting from me just so you could take care of my little girl. I think that says a whole hell of a lot." Hopper's voice was cracking, tears slowly beginning to escape from his almost stoic face. Joyce noticed faster than Hopper could process. 

"Hey, hey, of course I did. Of course I did," her smile was warm and sincere, a strong insistence in her eyes. "Can I tell you something?" Hopper gave her a slightly confused glance, but quickly tilted his head to signal her to continue. "I came here a few weeks ago, because... Because I wanted to get to know her in any way I could," Joyce trailed off, chuckling lightly, "Somehow let her know that she is just as much a part of this family as any of our kids." 

Hopper felt a warmth in his chest that almost spilled over as he gently interlocked his fingers with Joyce's. She squeezed his hand firmly, a silent reminder of her steady and soothing presence that Hopper loved so damn much about her. 

"She would have loved you," Hopper murmured, his tone almost painfully genuine. Joyce looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, beaming. 

"You think so?" Hopper chuckled. 

"Oh I know so. She was always such a little spitfire, she would think you're a badass." Hopper playfully nudged Joyce, his tearstained face still managing to flash a hopeful, playful smile. Joyce almost guffawed, smirking lightly. "And she'd be right." There was a long, strange moment of silence. It was mournful but playful, warm yet foreboding. 

"I don't understand how you do this," Joyce said disbelievingly, shaking her head at the ground, "God, I mean I only had to... It was only a few days." Hop sighed, slinging an arm around her. 

"I wish I knew," he said almost wistfully, rubbing a hand up and down her shoulder, "It never really stops hurting, it just.. it just dulls. Goes to the back of your mind. You... You live life, but it never leaves." He paused for a long moment, his eyes drifting back to the stone, "After a while, I started to not just miss her, but.. I started to miss being a dad. I missed having someone to take care of. Someone to really care about." Joyce smiled. 

"You're pretty good at it too," Hopper raised his eyebrow in a mix of cockiness and confusion. Joyce laughed under her breath, taking a steadying breath, "Jonathan told me about what happened at the cabin." Hopper's eyes went wide. 

"I... What did he say?" 

"He told me about what you saw, how you reacted. Hop, he didn't even let me see it for almost a year." 

"I'm pretty sure it was an accident, Joyce, you give me too much credit." 

"He felt comfortable enough around you to take that risk. I don't think you realize how short of a list that puts you on. He trusts you, Hop. Both of them do." He smiled at her, tears welling in his eyes once again. He leaned down and kissed her, gently but firmly, like an assurance of love and protection. 

"We should get going. The kids will be up any minute now." He strode back over to the tombstone, bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of the smooth rock. "Bye baby. I'll come back as soon as I can, okay?" He whispered to the stone, staring intently at the girl's name. Joyce stood just outside of the passenger door, taking in the scene before her. There was something about the gentleness in her fiancé's steps, the tenderness with which he carried himself around these sorrowful grounds. 

When they sat in the car once again, her eyes were still locked on the man at the wheel, but not because of his strange presentation. 

Because of his newfound gentle demeanor that made her feel for the first time in a very long time that she was truly safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies. Please feel free to yell at me/tell me what you thought! I appreciate all of you!


	4. Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the moment he got out of the Upisde Down, Will's mother was never the only one to comfort him.

There were two voices that greeted Will when he was rescued. 

He forgot that on occasion, as shameful as it was to admit. The pleasant memories of his mother's soothing words guiding him gently to the realization that he was safe, he was going home, he made it, were so powerful that the rest of the dark scene faded in Will's memory. There was so much about that short time that he would give anything to forget that even some of the better memories were starting to get foggy.

That didn't change the simple fact:

His mother was not the only one who greeted him when he got out of the Upside Down. There was also Hopper. 

Hopper was there, encouraging him and slamming his fist on his chest in a desperate attempt to get him to breathe.

Hopper was there, gently helping an oxygen mask over his face. 

Hopper was there, carrying him out of the hospital. 

Hopper was always right there.

He never got too hands on, always being the silent protector in Will's life ever since he got out of the Upside Down. His mom was always the loud one, the one who would run into his room and hold him after nightmares, the one who would stand up for him when the doctors said he was crazy, and taking care of him when the flashbacks got to be too much.

Hopper wasn't like that. He would stand in the background and watch with gentle and protective eyes, attempting to reassure him from afar, like there was something holding him back. Not that Will was offended, if anything he was grateful to not be smothered by so many people, but that meant Hopper faded to the background of some of his memories, more so than he wanted him to.

Even if the memories of Hopper on that fateful day started to leave Will, Hopper himself never did. He was always there, quiet and stoic and protective, looking over his family with the stern calmness of a tiger overlooking its cubs. It made Will feel strangely safe, to a degree that he couldn't explain. So when his mother showed him the ring, her hand in Hopper's and a smile across her face, he was immediately relieved. It proved to him that the sense of permanence that emanated from Hopper was not something he made up. He wasn't going anywhere, it was official. 

Hopper would always be there. And that made it feel like Will's world got a little bit lighter.

There was just something therapeutic about having another voice in the house, another presence that would distract him from some of the most terrible memories. There was laughter in the house, joking and smiling in a way that felt all too absent in his life, from the yelling that followed his father wherever he went to the strange and painful silence that made itself at home with him after he'd returned from that horrible place. There was happiness again, more light, more levity. 

More voices. 

Thanks to Hop, Will's life was starting to get louder, to get out of the void that he fell headfirst into at twelve years old. 

That is, until the sun went down. 

Will's mind crawled back into the Upside Down when the house was quiet, when the sky was black, like it was down there. It had been years, but there were still days when the wounds felt fresh, when his safety still felt new. A part of him instinctually formed a survival plan, scanned for a way out when the creature came back to get him. He'd formed a lot of those plans when he was down there, because there was no other way to get out. Even his home, the one he laid in restlessly that night, wasn't safe. Nowhere was. 

He tried everything he could to ease his own mind, repeating the same affirmations in his head that he did those first few nights in the hospital while the clash played softly in the background of his mind. It was easier those first nights, in a backward way. He could focus not just on the clearer air and the harsh white lights, but also, crucially, on the hand gently resting over his own, or carding through his hair. It didn't matter if it was mom's or Jonathan's, the simple yet persistent reminder that he was not alone was enough. He couldn't do that anymore, not without being a bother. Only his drawings were there to keep him company through the night, the only assurance that he was truly safe was the fire in the eyes of the heroes he drew, conjured in his mind to make the fight more even. 

But they didn't quiet his mind. They didn't fight the demons quite as well as the real breathing company he had in those early days. So, he soldiered on in silence. Will the Wise rested his weary head on his pillow and fought his own flayed mind, trying to get something resembling sleep.

He was in a near daze between sleep and wakefulness when he heard his door open, a sound that immediately caused him to freeze. From the days of ducking behind Jonathan to escape the ire of his father to the moments where a creaking door meant a new monster, Will knew that a creaking door meant danger. He heard a soft laugh coming from behind him. 

"You still awake Will?" It was Hopper, groggy and slurring his speech, but still unmistakably Hopper. He felt his chest loosen ever so slightly as he buried his head into his pillow, trying his damnedest to convince the chief he was fast asleep. He should have expected Hopper to see right through it. "Something bothering you kid?" Hopper's voice was kind and understanding as he sauntered to the chair next to Will's bed, leaning his elbows on his knees in concern. Will bit his lip hard. It had been years, this was stupid. He didn't bother his own family with it, so why would he lay it all on Hopper? 

"Why are you still up?" Will wasn't stupid, he knew deflection wouldn't work for long, but buying himself some time to think was better than nothing. Hop almost scoffed. 

"I don't think so. You first," Hopper said almost playfully, raising his eyebrow. Will sighed darkly. 

"Just can't sleep," his voice failed him at the end, fracturing in lingering fear. Hopper swallowed hard, leaning over Will more properly. Will noticed how practiced the movements seemed, his position at the bedside of a hurting kid seeming almost alarmingly familiar. 

"Talk to me kid, what do you need," Hopper's hand inched closer to Will. Will hung his head and sat up slowly, unwilling to meet the chief's eyes. 

"It's... It's a bad night. Brain won't shut off." Hopper nodded, sighing in heavy understanding. 

"Do you wanna talk through it," Hopper questioned softly, his weight shifting even further toward Will. He breathed shakily, shaking his head rapidly. 

"It's just stupid," Will's voice got impossibly small, "It shouldn't do this to me anymore." Will could see the way Hopper recoiled at the statement, his eyes suddenly clouding with ghosts Will didn't recognize. 

"Upside Down?" Hopper asked darkly. Will nodded, seeing no point in hiding, not when he'd given that much away. "God..." He took Will's hand before he could stop himself, squeezing gently before continuing, "Is it okay if I stay here, or do you want some space?" Will was taken aback my the question. His mother always swooped in and held him, covering him with care. That was what happened if he was hurting, not something like this, not a choice. Not an open end. 

It was different. It was nice. But it wasn't what he wanted.

"It's fine... Stay." Hopper smiled softly, rubbing his thumb against Will's palm unconsciously. Will buried his face in the pillow again, his heart rate coming back down to normal. 

"Can you look at me Will?" Hopper insisted gently. Will did, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "There is no shame in hurting like this, okay? You went through hell, we almost lost you. Stuff like that doesn't heal quickly." 

"It's been three years." 

"It's been twenty since I touched down in Vietnam, and I still fucking hate the 4th of July." Will felt his stomach drop. Of course he knew about Hopper's service, he wasn't exactly secretive about it, but a statement that candid was jarring. "What I'm saying is there's no reason to be embarrassed about this. It's okay for this to get to you sometimes." Will nodded, letting his fight or flight response quiet. "Try and rest, kid. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you." Will was soothed by the honesty in Hopper's eyes, and after a while, he let the exhaustion take over, falling into a restful sleep. 

\---

The next morning, Joyce woke up in an empty bed. She panicked for a moment, her mind racking with possibilities. Marriage to the police chief came with worries she'd never seen before, like late night calls, dangerous emergencies, and the pervasive fear that he might not come home. Joyce couldn't do that. Not again. 

Just as her mind began to run, she saw a note on Hop's bedside table, the handwriting messy. 

I'm fine. Will's room. Hard night, couldn't leave him. 

Joyce's heart sunk and swelled all at once. She walked to the room across the hall as quietly as she could, not wanting to disrupt the rare sight of her peaceful household. 

When she opened the door, she quickly teared up. 

Hop was fast asleep in Will's old chair, his limbs slumped in an odd configuration that looked anything but comfortable. His hand however was resting firmly on Will's bed, his fingers wrapped around Will's hand gently but protectively. 

There was a lot wrong with her family, that much was obvious, but there were moments that felt next to normal, hell even blissful. And the way Hopper sat next to Will, shepherding him through the dangerous field of memories that had been surrounding him for so, so long, felt like a little bit of happy. A little bit of victory. 

The serenity in the room was too perfect to interrupt. So instead, Joyce slid to the kitchen silently. 

She didn't want to wake them up with a sudden intrusion. 

She'd wake them up with the smell of fresh pancakes instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support on this fic! I appreciate your comments and kudos so much, and even knowing you're reading this always makes me smile. 
> 
> Stay gold lovelies.


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